Target Aquired
by JuniperLemon
Summary: The Avengers need a Master Asassin. Luckily enough, Clint knows just the man for the job; Steve Rogers. Assassin!Steve
1. Chapter 1

"I can't do it." Natasha leant forward, her chair squeaking as she moved, "I've already been given a mission and besides you'd probably need a specialist for this."

Tony sighed, pushing back against the table, "Barton?"

The short man sighed, "I can't..." The whole table began to groan in desperation when he piped up again,"But I might know someone who can."

The group's eyes turned on him quickly, "Who?" Several people asked in unison.

* * *

The gun was hot in his hand but he didn't have time to wait around. He dissembled it quickly with a few swift movements and slipped it into the dark duffle bag before slinging it over his shoulder. He needed to get out quickly before someone walked in to find a master assassin packing away his weapon. That would be a little more than just awkward.

There was a sound from somewhere in the large warehouse and the man silently cursed for jinxing himself. If he died today his eulogy would state how much of an idiot he was. His light eyes scanned the area before, keeping crouched low, he slipped out the emergency fire exit that was close behind him.

Once on the metal steps he glanced over the edge, a three floor drop, and jumped. He braced for impact and rolled to lessen the force. Nevertheless, he had to shake himself off when he stood up. Peering back up he sighed; he was getting too old for pulling stunts like that. The moon shined down on him from above the large building.

Then he ran.

His dark car was hidden several roads away in a back alley away from prying eyes. The streets were silent at this time in the morning with only the sound of a busy road off far in the distance. He skidded around the corner and smashed straight into his own car. He flew over the hood of the car, hurting his side as he made contact with his definitely moving vehicle. The brakes squealed but it was unnecessary as the assassin already had his hand-gun out and was wrenching the passenger door open. Gun first, he leapt in.

The weapon was instantly hit from his grip sending it on the floor under this assassin's feet. In his mind he cursed himself for jumping blindly in while assuming it was some petty thief behind the wheel. He swore out loud until he noticed the grinning little shit sat behind the wheel.

He dropped back into his seat panting while his side protested it's existence, "Clint. I should have known. You literally tried to kill me, you little shit." He used to hate swearing but after so long surrounded by murderers and assassins you tend to just pick it up.

Barton threw his hands up innocently, "Actually, I saw you running so I was coming to get you. It's your fault you don't look where you're going." He smirked, "Didn't your mommy tell you to always look both ways before crossing the street?"

He huffed a laugh, "I'm running from a murder. I'm sure she'd make allowances." She definitely wouldn't agree with him being the one doing the murdering especially with her good old American sensibilities but he tried not to dwell.

Clint laughed and set the vehicle going again. He turned in the opposite direction of the warehouse and sped away.

Steve adjusted himself in the seat, clutching his side, "What about you though? I thought you'd sold your soul to a corporation?... Oh no, are they after me?" He joked, darkly.

Clint shot him a look before rolling his eyes, "It's Shield so its different and why would they want anything to do with you?" Suspicion colored his tone. He'd never managed to fully school himself around Steve as he could read him like an open book anyway.

"You know full well I still don't know who they are so how am I supposed to know what they want from me?" He asked, verging on defensively. People have wanted stuff from him a little too much for him to completely trust...well, anyone.

"It's the United States security forces but for more unusual problems." The smaller man supplied.

"Eh, with you moving up in the world why would you come visiting a little nobody like me?" Steve joked again, chuckling.

However, Clint didn't join in. Instead he looked stone eyed across at his long-time friend and slowed the dark car to a stop by the side of the road. He sighed, a hand reaching up the rub at his temple. Steve squinted suspiciously.

"We need your help." He stated plain and simple. Not beating around the bush nor any bells and whistles. Steve had a logical brain; he fed off facts, "I would have been here sooner but you're a hard man to find."

"Why would you need me?" His grey eyes scanned the area outside the car. If this was a trap he was taking people down with him. His fingers twitched in an instant desire to grasp his blades, "You have... her. What's her name?"

"Natasha? She can't do it."

"Well, you're perfectly qualified. I've seen you in action. You're training is impeccable." Steve stumbled out. He was not getting himself roped into some organisation where he'd have ties and a base with someone he'd have to actually report to. How did Clint even consider him to help? It's ridiculous and frankly insulting and he needed out of this car.

He twisted around, despite the screaming of his side, and pushed out the door. He was out in mere milliseconds, already pacing in front of the vehicle. Clint sighed again, watching him in the headlights for a moment before joining his friend.

"I know my training is impeccable because I learnt from the best." He reached out to rest his hand against Steve's arm effectively halting his movement, "But that's the point. You're the best and we need you." He had a strong sense of deja vu as he recalled several times where he'd been begging the larger man before, "You'd be saving people."

Steve sent him a scathing look and pulled his arm away to continue pacing, "I'm currently running from a murder and you thinking helping people will convince me to join your band of Merry Men?"

At least he was pacing, Clint knew the man well enough to know he was churning it over in his mind as he walked. Standing stone still would be bad news, "You'd be doing me a favor."

"I don't owe you a fa-" He started.

"Yes, I know and quite frankly I owe you so many I'm surprised you haven't repossessed my farm." He gave a gentle smile. Reminding Steve of their relationship and friendship that had endured years.

Steve's lips disobediently curled into a smile.

Clint knew one last ditch attempt to convert his mentor, "You'd still be free, Cap." He slipped in the familiar nickname, "You'd have to report maybe once a week max. You'd be given assignments then you can go and come back when it's done. Nobody will be on your back and no corporation will own you."

Temptation leaked into his expression. He'd always help Clint no matter what as they were like brothers but was this pushing too far against his morals. He wasn't to be a part of an organisation again like when he was in the military.

He sighed, leaning his face up the the slowly lightening sky. It looked somewhat akin to prayer but spoke instead to Barton, "Fine, I'll help but I'll report to nobody but you. And they can't snoop in my life. If that's not going to work then we can leave here now like it never happened."

"No," Clint spoke quickly before the man changed his mind, "I think that could definitely work."


	2. Chapter 2

"Barton," Fury snapped. The sound of his footsteps getting closer made the spy roll his eyes. If only he were hidden in the eye-patch blind spot so he could sneak off, "Where is he?" Booming voice echoed around the inside of the corridor. Did he really not have an indoor voice?

"I'm afraid I don't know. Cap is a bit of a free spirit." He struggled to explain his friend's paranoid behaviour. But was it paranoid if he really was being watched? "You tell him where to be and you just have to trust he'll be there."

The Director scowled and leant closer, "What if he doesn't show?"

He tried not to take offence, he really did, but Steve was a loyal friend to him. To hear the man getting slated before even making an appearance was frankly insulting. Stone cold he stared into the man's one remaining eye, "He has never once let me down when I've needed him. Regardless of the situation." He turned sharply and strode off towards his quarters.

He glanced at his watch. Steve wasn't even due for another hour.

* * *

It was getting close to the time and Barton was beginning to get mildly anxious. No matter how much he trusted Steve there was always the risk that the assassin had decided against helping Shield.

A voice called over the speaker with an alarm blaring behind her, "Intruder on floor 3. West wing. Floor 3. Unidentifed male."

Clint leapt into action, grabbing his bow before it dawned on him who had just shown up. He sighed and rolled his eyes wearily. He really couldn't just do things the easy way. It wasn't in Steve's nature to use the front door especially when it was the door to a special branch of the government.

Clint flicked on his comms, "Fury, best get the Avengers to the conference room. I think that person I was telling you about has just arrived." He muttered evasively in case anybody was listening in.

Steve had only agreed on the condition he remained basically anonymous to Shield on a whole. That was going to be a challenge considering how he had basically just swung in through a window, setting off every alarm in the whole building sending every staff member into a frenzy.

The spy sighed and shook his head. This was either going to go really well or be an absolute travesty. He didn't know which to place his bets on.

* * *

Steve was already there when they arrived. However, he wasn't sat at the table, instead he was peering out the window over the large grey base. People moved around it like ants. His eyes scanned the area as though he was actively searching for something hidden in its midst.

Steve knew they were there but didn't move more acknowledge them. Director Fury, on the other hand, seemed more than happy for the assassin to just stand there so he could assess him and the immediate vibes he got from the large man. Eventually, Clint coughed in sign for Steve to just turn around already.

He stood, braced in his 'stand-to-attention' military pose, with tight shoulders and cool eyes like stone. He wore his all black outfit he usually saved for when he was out working but today he was aiming for professional with a side of Don't-ask-me-anything. All in all he made a pretty impressive sight.

"Director Fury. This is Cap and he's willing to help us take down Doctor Heelm." Barton finally introduced when he realised that the two other men were too busy inspecting each other to actually start communicating. He expected it from Steve, a secretive and sceptical super assassin, but not from Fury.

"And do you think you've got what it takes?" The eye-patched man stepped forward, glaring.

"I don't even know what 'it' is yet, sir." Steve fired back quickly.

"Clint seems to think you can hold your own. Says you're the best in the business."

Steve's gaze slowly slid across to where his friend was standing patiently, "I don't doubt I could do it. Although Agent Barton has an unrealistically high opinion of me." The ex-soldier responded, still not relaxed from his position.

"He trained me himself." Clint added to Fury.

And as though that sealed the deal and was proof to his capabilities, the director nodded and called up the other Avengers over the comms. As the man did so, Barton grinned across at Steve who nodded back gently in a controlled motion. The spy could honestly be an excitable puppy sometimes.

The first to enter was Dr Banner. He walked in confidently before his insecurities caused embarrassment to crash down on him when he realised he was the first. All eyes were on him. The Doctor instantly read the stranger's body language and recognised it immediately as something he often displayed himself: A don't touch me message. Instead, the scientist gave an awkward wave and introduced himself quickly. It seemed the assassin had no preconceived ideas about him or The Other Guy which was rare but definitely a relief. He hated walking into a room and being identified only by being 'that guy who broke Harlem. You know, the green one'.

Thor was next and, not as adept at reading body language, he barrelled towards the newcomer with all intentions of giving him a bracing hug to solidify their relationship as brothers in battle. However, Clint managed to snag a finger in a loop of his armour to tug him back. The blond was confused but accepted it as yet another bizarre human social convention. He slipped into a chair at the table next to where Bruce was standing.

Tony was next and, out of everyone he'd met so far, had the most hostile reaction to Steve's presence. He immediately slumped down into one of the leather chairs and glared at the stranger. Eventually he sighed and swivelled towards Clint.

"Is this the 'specialist' you found? He looks like an Action Man." He scoffed, doubting everything from Cap's abilities to his intelligence. He span back to gaze at the large man.

Suddenly the doors opened and Natasha marched in. Looking up, she froze when her eyes landed on the man in front of the window, "Oh shit."

Steve smirked slightly in response as he recognised her from a couple of cases he'd worked in the past.

"Wait, you know each other?!" Clint cried. Slightly disappointed that he couldn't just have a cool thing to himself for once. Someone always had to steal his thunder.

"Not exactly." Steve muttered as Natasha also spoke.

"Yes." She said at the same time, making their words clash. They peered at each other for a moment before she leant up against the table and crossed her arms, "A few times I've been hired to do a job but by the time I get there this joker has already been and gone. I didn't think you had even noticed me until that one time..."

"That one time you tried to kill me." Steve finished neutrally.

She shrugged when everyone's eyes flicked between them, "I was tired of him stealing all my jobs."

It wasn't very often Natasha had the word 'tried' associated with her. She was a 'doer' person. She gracefully dumped herself in of the the chairs at the table.

"But then, how did you and Clint meet?" Stark piped up, looking suspicious.

"He tried to kill me too."


	3. Chapter 3

~Memory~

A fat raindrop splattered in the corner of his eye as he peered up into the increasingly dark storm clouds. Large puddles spread across the street, constantly rippling from the torrent of water descending from the sky. He hoped it would ease up soon as it was making the butterflies in his stomach increase tenfold. These were not exactly ideal conditions, especially for a newbie.

Clint wiped the water off his face despite the fact he'd be wet again only moments later. His shoulders were getting cold from the way his clothes were as absorbent as a sponge. He strode on towards the apartment building determinedly. He wasn't about to let his boss down and besides, he was being paid a hefty sum for this job.

The details in the brief had specified that the man's apartment was on the 5th floor of a large apartment building but he did have a window that fed directly onto a fire escape. Even from this distance, Clint counted the floors, he could see his target's light was on suggesting he was home or maybe paranoid of burglary.

Barton picked up his speed as he got closer to the building and slipped down the alley way next to it. He peered up, whilst shielding his eyes from the rain, at the metal steps ascending the side of the building. He found a trash can abandoned nearby and used it as a boost for him to jump off. His fingers snagged the rusty metal of the ladder and proceeded to haul himself onto the first level. Clint huffed out a breath.

Creeping up the stairs, he moved silently but with efficient speed until he met the only lit window; it wasn't exactly bizarre that it was alone as it was past 3am. He peered inside and haltered. The room was small but definitely didn't look as he'd been picturing inside his head for an apparent assassin. A small couch and coffee table sat in front of a small television which was positioned beside a large bookcase stuffed with novels. A baseball cap, sporting the local teams colors, was hooked over the top edge of the case. There must have been a mistake.

However, at this moment the homeowner strolled back into his living room, forcing Clint to shuffle back the hide most of his body around the wall. He kept his eyes glued to the person though. He was definitely the target. Who could forget that blond hair and bulging muscles from the ID picture. The man was wrapping his forearm in bandage while wincing. Clint now had the evidence to suggest this man was the assassin he'd beed hired to kill. He pulled his handgun out of its holder and waited.

Eventually the man sighed and padded back through to where he'd come from, the bedroom Clint assumed. Barton waited a while before slipping the many locks on the man's window. Quietly, he encouraged the window to slide open which allowed him to climb inside. The smell of the room, like cotton and workout sweat, hit him suddenly but it was the opposite of unpleasant. He crept to the bedroom door and peeked inside to where the man, surprisingly to Clint, was knelt praying beside his bed. Eyes closed is ideal for murder.

He slipped closer to the man and raised the gun to aim towards his head.

Suddenly, the man flipped around and threw a Russian throwing knife at Clint's arm making him drop the gun to grab his wound. Noticing his target moving, Barton swiftly whipped out his trusty bow and arrow, aiming them for the now standing man's heart. The target raised his hands in apparent surrender.

Seconds later something sharp hit the back of Clint's neck. It felt like being sung by a wasp. His steady fingers automatically dropped his weapon despite his minds protest. The world began to spin while the carpet zoomed up to his face. He landed heavily with a deep outburst of breath. Darkness began to creep in on his sight but the last thing he saw was this assassin peering down on him with pity.

* * *

It was light when he woke up as the blinds weren't even pulled down which didn't help his pounding headache. It took him a moment to remember where he was; at which point he was surprised that he'd even woken up at all. Clint scanned the small bedroom before frowning when he noticed he was on his target's squeaky bed. He wasn't dismembered or disembowelled or anything else beginning with 'dis-' and he wasn't even tied up. Instead he had the majority of his clothes stripped off and hung on the radiator over in the corner, a thick blanket holding him down and a glass of water and a pill beside the bed which he assumed would ease his head pain. He wouldn't consume either though. He may be a rookie but he wasn't stupid.

As he was peering at the bedside table, he hadn't notice the bedroom door silently swing open. The fellow assassin stood their assessing the injured man's actions. Clint was so oblivious to him that the sudden appearance of a voice made him jump.

"Why do you use a gun?" The voice asked.

Clint span his head around to stare at his kidnapper... or host? Or captor? Hostage taker?

"What?"

The man, the file had called him as 'Cap', rolled his eyes but in a jokey manner, "A gun? Why do you use one?"

Was this a trick question? It felt like a trick question so Barton asked, "Is this a trick question? I use a gun because that's what you're supposed to use, what everyone uses, it's easiest and quickest."

He leant against the door frame, "But you're clearly more proficient with a bow. Surely you get that it's pointless to put yourself at a disadvantage just because it's 'what you're supposed to use'." He placed air quotes around the final words.

Barton squinted suspiciously. He inspected the man as though he could sense malice from the surface. He didn't speak for a few moments but Cap seemed happy enough to allow him to roam his body. He sure knew what it was like to just need to fully figure someone out.

"Do you eat pancakes?" The target asked after waiting long enough, "How about bacon?"

"Bacon?" Barton's still muddled brain struggled to comprehend.

"Yeah, I went to get some this morning. Do you eat it? You're not vegetarian or something?" He asked as he backed back out to the lounge and through to the kitchen.

He'd gone out and left a murderer, more specifically his murderer, alone in his apartment? Barton could have done anything while the man was gone.

"Uh, no. I'm not a vegetarian." He called to the other man.

"That's a relief or this would have been a waste." He returned back with a steaming plate of pancakes and bacon, "Although, I'd have to applaud you for sticking to a cause you believe it."

There was so much food it was practically a mountain of calories being placed on his lap for him to devour but his stomach was grumbling demandingly. He lifted the fork hesitantly, "Is this poisoned?"

Cap huffed a laugh while exiting the room once again. He called back, "What would I gain from that? I could have just killed you while you were sleeping. Tip one: Never make a job harder than it needs to be." He entered back with all Clint's equipment in his arms and a large duffle bag to conceal it, "And I'm not being rude but I'm more of a lone wolf these days and it's already 2:30pm so if you wouldn't mind eating up then getting out."

Clint smirked, "Aren't you supposed to be more subtle to a one night stand?" He fluttered his eyelashes.

"Sure, let me try again. You're useless to me so get out. Oh and if you actually want my advice drop out now." His tone was harsh but his expression was concerned.

"What? Why?!" He blanched after swallowing a bite of pancake.

Cap sighed and edged closer into the room until he was at the foot of the bed, "You're going to get yourself killed. I heard you outside my window then saw you when I came out to see what the noise was. I could have killed you without you even knowing it was coming. I almost did but hey, we were all newbies once."

"I can't. I need the money." He thought back to his family. They were struggling through.

There was silence at they stared at each other. Cap's mind was ticking over at 100km as he fought an inner conflict. Mind versus heart.

"Fine, I'll help you but this doesn't make us friends." He snapped, crossing his arms.

"Help me? How?" He needed help, he wasn't denying that. He was just confused about how to actually be an apprentice of an assassin.

"We'll train together for a few weeks and you can come on some jobs with me until you've got the ropes."

A smile began to curl up Barton's lips as he gazed up at his new mentor. This day could only get better; not being dead, getting a mentor and free breakfast!

Within a few months Clint had jumped up several levels and was ready to begin working alone. However, he never stopped thinking about Steve and everything he did and sacrificed for him. He managed to find him a few times but it was definitely a hard man to track down.


	4. Chapter 4

"Wait," Stark was smirking, "These two both tried to kill you and neither succeeded? Woah, you guys were bigging yourself up way too much."

The assassin shook his head, "They weren't the first and won't be the last. I was, and am, ready." He peered straight into Stark's soul with his stone cold gray eyes.

There was a few moments of silence until Tony burst out, "Well, I like him. Can we keep him?"

"I'm not here to be one of Clint's team." Cap spoke, but it sounded more like an order, before anyone else.

"Clint's team?" Tony barked a laugh, "He's been lying to you, man. He doesn't own us."

Steve's eyes turned impossibly colder at the insinuation that Clint was not at a level where he could command them as a unit, "Yes but unlike with the rest of you, I actually know who he is."

Natasha smirked at the face Stark was pulling as his ego got smashed into tiny, tiny pieces. The genius span his chair around with his mouth open in hope of getting support from the team but they were all chuckling silently. It wasn't very often Tony Stark got told he was irrelevant to someone. His mouth fluttered open and closed desperately.

"So what do you need me for anyway?" Cap asked, turning away from the sitting man and up to Fury. "It won't take long, right?"

"Don't worry. You'll be out before you know it." The director replied whilst grinning at the serving Tony just got dealt. If Steve was going to teach Tony a lesson then he'd gladly put up with his weird, super paranoid, evasive techniques.

* * *

It was a week later when Steve felt his cell phone vibrating against his thigh. He cursed it silently before dropping his gun and slipping the cell out of his deep pocket. His eyebrow raised slightly at the number he didn't really recognize and, shuffling along the floor in his crouching position, slipped further into the darkness of the alley to answer it.

"Speak." He muttered quietly. He wished he could use the formalities but he was on a job and he wasn't about to get himself killed by doing so. His gray eyes continued to scan the street lamp lit road where his target should run past any minute now. He kept his other hand curled tightly around the gun in preparation.

"If I'd known you like to be the dominant type I would have come more prepared. Although contrary to popular belief I'm not a massive fan of phone sex." The voice commented offhandedly.

Steve froze and frowned.

The voice spoke again, "Do you really not know who I am?" When Steve again didn't comment the caller sighed, "Didn't you ever get taught that a conversation has to involve two people? Unless you want to get carted off to an insane asylum for talking to yourself... it's Stark. Tony Stark... Iron man from the Avengers."

"How did you get my number and why are you calling me, Mr Stark?" He whispered back, voice as cold as ice. He'd been promised by Clint and Shield that nobody outside of those he'd confirmed would have access to his cell number. He wanted to avoid situations like this exact one.

"Look, Clint isn't exactly well known for coming up with inventive phone passwords and I'm calling because you said you didn't know who I was."

Steve couldn't help the twitch in his lips, "You're still caught up over that?"

"No... Well, most people know me. I'm a household name. It was just unusual to find someone who didn't recognise me immediately."

"Watch out, Mr Stark, if you head gets much bigger-," A loud shot suddenly echoed down the phone line making the genius jump, "It'll put strain on your neck."

"What the fuck! Are you okay? What was that?" Tony rambled out, shocked but the piercing sound of gunfire. The genius had only ever associated that noise with bad news in which he'd usually have to run away. There was a slight sound of quick movement on Steve's end.

"What was what?" Wind whipped past the receiver as he began to run full speed away from the murder scene. If he hadn't been an idiot and left his silencer in America then it wouldn't have been such a speedy get away.

"A gunshot?!" He demanded.

There was no noise from Steve aside from the rustling of his clothes and the wind until the man finally stopped running. Tony could practically hear the frown in his tone, "You realise that I am an assassin, Mr Stark."

"Oh shit. You're on a job right now?" Everything was clicking together for the genius. "Where are you? I'll come and get you."

"That's unlikely." The running started up again.

"Try me. I have a jet that can get anywhere in America in a few hours." The billionaire boasted.

"Я в России." The accent melted into the words smoothly, burning all evidence of his Brooklyn origins. He quickly translated for the other man, "I'm in Russia."

"Why Russia? Don't they have assassins in Russia?! Isn't that Natasha's patch?"

Steve huffed a laugh, "Of course they do but sometimes they want someone reliable. Who they know will do the job. Anyway, I have to go now, Mr Stark. Please do not contact me again."

The end of call tone murmured into Tony's ear and he pulls the cell away to peer at it as though it had personally offended him. Most people he called wanted to be on the receiving end of his conversations so this man was a new mystery for him to solve. During the duration of the call it was almost as if the assassin had forgotten himself and actually enjoyed the interaction until he remembered he was going for the distant non-contact relationship so hung up.

One thing was for sure, he was definitely going to keep bugging his new friend.

* * *

Natasha's red hair hung around her bowed head like a veil; it shielded her face from the same around her. Behind the cover her eyes were rapidly scanning an article with her knuckles tight around the easily ripped paper. The further she read the increasingly negative her reaction became which was exactly why Tony was so confused when he entered their shared kitchen of the tower.

He took one step into the room and froze, frowning at the usually emotionless spy. Seeing her expressing anything just felt so wrong. He stepped towards her quietly and, despite her usual ability, her anger had clouded her senses meaning she was unaware of his presence until he was only a meter away.

"Stark!" She snapped, "Don't do that. I could have killed you!" Which they both knew was not an exaggeration as Natasha always travelled prepared.

"What's up? What's got you so riled up?" Stark's natural curiosity bubbling to the surface.

Without hesitation, Romanov slapped the newspaper down on the table with a grunt of perfect disapproval. His eyes quickly scanned the title.

STEALTH MURDERER STRIKES AGAIN

Tony's eyes darted back and forth between Natasha and the words for a couple of moments before asking outright, "And this is so terrible because?"

"It's not," The assassin sighed, fingers lightly flicking the corner of the paper, "I mean, in the bigger picture, he's does a lot worse for a lot less."

He squinted at her for a moment, trying to assess whether he was supposed to understand anything she was saying, "Good thing you don't work in a team because you're a terrible communicator... Oh wait, you do." Stark teased lightly.

Her eyes slid up to his, "Well, in that case, you're looking at the handy work of our latest teammate." Natasha folder her arms and leant back in her chair to watch for signs of shock and astonishment which didn't come, "You're not surprised?"

"No," He scoffed, "I've known since last week. Well, I knew before that but I knew the extent of it last week when I was mid-call with him and I heard a shot. At first I thought he was under fire but it was a job. What's wrong with this?"

"There is nothing wrong. He's just drawing unnecessary attention to himself when we need him alive and preferably unarrested. But wait," Suspicion dropped itself over her sharp features, "Why were you calling him?"

Stark's 180 was so suddenly he could have received whiplash and, despite his desperate attempts not to, his face blushed red. The man began to stammer and stutter as he headed off towards the coffee machine to pour himself a cup and more intentionally avoid eye contact with a master spy.

"I was just checking the weather... I mean, I was asking what time... Okay, the truth is that I wanted to know if he really didn't know me or if that was just a front he put on." His shoulders drooped a little instantly telling Natasha that A) The assassin really didn't have any clue who Stark was and B) Tony's ego really was that inflated and fragile.

She smirked. There was only a certain few people in this world that Tony would go to interesting lengths to get their number and apparently Captain turned out to be one of them. Romanov considered mocking him but quickly changed her mind. If Stark was making some sort of emotional progress she didn't want to be the one to stunt his metaphorical growth.

But she knew that mentioning this to Clint would be a mistake. He was surprisingly protective over his mentor. He would kill Stark before allowing the man to get his grubby hands all over his Assassin-Mother.

"How do you know it's him?" Stark asked, sipping his coffee and nodding down in attempted neutrality at the newspaper.

"When you watch him for as long as I have, you'll learn he has a method." But she didn't seem to care how stalkerish that sounded.


	5. Chapter 5

Steve slumped against the pale wall as the blood continued to ooze between his fingers despite the pressure he was applying to the wound. It was like a torrent of crimson flowing straight out of him. He grunted as he reached down to pull a small hand pistol from where it'd been strapped against his leg. The blond took a breath to steady himself before stepping away from the wall, forcing himself out the door and aiming down the road.

His assailant was running as fast as his legs could carry him but had significantly underestimated how well Steve could deal with a simple bullet to the shoulder and blood loss. He didn't realise Steve would be instantly burning for revenge.

He pulled the trigger and the small metal death sentence sliced whisperlessly though the air until it plunged into the back of the man's head. The man collapsed onto his knees before hitting the ground. There was no way he'd survive that.

Steve hurried back towards the run down apartment he'd once again hidden in before the attempted assassination but stumbled on the step up so nearly fell down. There was blood everywhere, thanks to whoever had put a price on his head again. Why were people so obsessed with murdering him? More blood. It was dripping down onto the tarmac in heavy splats Iike a child had flicked around a paintbrush.

He fell back into the small apartment and threw his arm out to catch himself. It left a long smear of blood along the pale wall and he muttered an out of breathy mild curse. He pushed himself over to his bed where he flopped down to place pressure on it while pulling out his cell phone.

He immediately clicked Clint's number as he had no idea who else to call in such a situation. He had no boss, friends or family that'd care for him. The phone began to dial and dial and dial with no answer from his only friend. He huffed a laugh at the irony; the one time he's ever needed the smaller male. He considered his options for a moment but his spinning head indicated that he was running out of time to choose. Steve reacted fast, selecting one of the only other numbers stored in his cell: Tony Stark.

* * *

The genius wouldn't never admit that he jumped when the calling tune blared out across the workshop despite the evidence video Jarvis now had that proved the contrary. His dark eyes peeped up at the device where it rested on a workbench across the room. He rolled his eyes and refocused his attention on the microwires and chips in his hands. Whatever Pepper wanted could wait until he was next in the office. However, as the tone continued to scream out something inside him caused him to discard his work and pad over to the cell and he was ever so glad he did as his heart pounded when he noticed the caller ID: Captain Mystery Assassin.

He snatched up the phone and answered before his mind could keep track enough to preplan his speech, "The genius Tony Stark speaking?" He'd meant it humorously but his tone had definitely not conveyed that intention and he was partly glad when he heard the slurred, slow response.

"-Starrrch?" The voice wavered. Stark could imagine the owner's eyelids slipping closed despite significant resistance, "Pluze, come."

"Come? Come where?" He asked, unsure whether to be laughing or deadly concerned.

"Hereee. Mmmm, Delll-E-Waa." His speech continued to slide further.

"Delaware? "What have you done? Are you drunk?" He chuckled.

"Wha? Noo. There's blood everywh-" His sentence dipped off suddenly as he dipped in and out of consciousness.

Stark snapped into action mode and commanded Jarvis to track the assassin's cellphone coordinates while still talking to the man. He began to surge towards his helipad while ordering his co pilot up immediately; this happened to be the only other person in the whole tower who could fly a helicopter: Natasha.

"Do you mean blood?" Tony questioned as he desperately tried to get a grip on the situation. "Do you remember exactly where you are?"

There was only a slight moaning sound from the speaker of his cell making Stark panic and curse when he noticed Natasha wasn't already on the helipad waiting. He called one of the medic people at SHIELD and told them to get ready to jump aboard when he briefly landed as there was an emergency 150 miles away.

"Hold on, Steve! I'm coming for you!" He hung up.

The quick pick up at SHIELD ended up being significantly longer than he'd anticipated but for the better as word had gotten around that Iron Man was on a mission and someone had procured him a high speed jet. It allowed them to reach Delaware twice as fast but that still wasn't fast enough for Stark.

On the flight he got everyone on board up to speed with what had happened. The medic had looked concerned at the news while Natasha merely rolled her eyes at Steve's antics; Surely he should be at least trying not to die while he has the whole of America relying on him. He could do it later.

* * *

It seemed so bizarre to see such a large man, who usually stood over 6 foot and as a solid mass, collapsed on the bed in the dull apartment completely limp. One hand was still splayed over the bullet entrance hole but the life-saving pressure had been released a significant time ago. The man's eyes were closed but, in his unconsciousness, he seemed completely free from pain and worry despite the smears of blood on his handsome face. It had managed to spread everywhere; all over the assassin himself but also the dark bedsheets had been stained with it and a hand print shaped mark decorated the wall.

"If you're dead I'm going to find a way to bring you back to life so I can kill you." Stark huffed under his breath after he broke down the door and rushed inside. He was quickly followed but the medic who was instantly on Captain searching for a pulse.

"Mr Stark, come and hold pressure on his wound." She commanded, pushing the assassin's limp hand off his shoulder.

Tony obeyed as any cocky, anti-authority vibes within him were burnt out in a second by the sight of this man, that he found deeply interesting, lying in such a state. He pushed down on the wound and started down into the face of Captain. In an instant, Tony regretted never taking the time to discover the man's real name.

"Okay, we have a pulse but barely. We need to get to the nearest hospital stat." The medic instructed again.

Natasha marched in seconds later with a stretcher she had found aboard the jet. Wordlessly, she lay it out beside the injured person and together all three of them managed to hoist his huge frame onto the stretcher. They had Steve in the jet and in the air less than a minute later.

* * *

He had a feeling he'd woken up before but forgotten it like when you wake up during the middle of the night but can't remember it the next morning. However, Steve could swear he'd woken up several times but, he cracked on eye open, he wasn't in his bed.

"Look, I know it's great to sleep in but now you're pushing it. The sympathy card has quite literally been used up. Nobody cares anymore. They're gone." A familiar voice mocked good humorly.

It took Steve's mind a second to click who's it was before he released his statement, "And yet you're still here." It wasn't delivered as fiery as he'd wanted as his throat was dry and sore. The other person huffed a laugh despite it.

Steve forced his eyes open to see he was in a large bedroom on a spongy king sized bed with a particular ego centric billionaire sat on a chair beside him, smart phone disregarded the moment the assassin had twitched. He smirked, "Ah, but I said nobody cares anymore and I'm not a nobody. I'm a mega celebrity, playboy and philanthropist. Definitely a somebody."

"Careful, if you inflate your ego much more your head won't fit it out that door." Voice still rasping, he joked on. In inclined his head towards the door. "Can I have some water?"

As if scolding himself for being a terrible nurse, Tony leapt up and rushed to grab Steve's drink. He carefully brought it to the man's lips. Steve tried not to notice how intently the billionaire stared at his mouth.

"I'm sorry," Stark blushed slightly, "You've woken up a few times now but this is the first time you've actually spoken. Last time you just opened your eyes and made a weird groaning noise like Frankenstein's Monster."

The younger man's lips curled slightly in the corners at the obscure reference. Even Steve, someone who tends to avoid too much tv, could understand that. He slurped at the water until the cup was nearly empty and he could feel the life being returned to his throat. He had the energy to appreciate that Stark understood Frankenstein to be the scientist though, not the creature.

"What happened? Where am I?" He peered around the room again.

"You're in my tower so you're safe but you really don't remember what happened?"

"The beginning I know but it's a bit blurry." He gave a shy smile and uncertain shrug until it pulled his wound causing him to stop and wince.

Stark laid a hand against his shoulder to keep him motionless. He sat on the side of the large bed.

"I got a call from you and at first I thought you were high or drunk or both." He scratched his beard as he recounted the last few days, "By the time we got there you were pretty close to bleeding to death but the medic saved your life. We had to in hospital for the first day or so, and you had your blood transfusions, until I demanded you get transferred here for safety. You had a full time nurse and all the machines for a couple of days until you were showing signs of improvement. She still pops in twice a day but I mainly care for you now with Shield helping here and there. So you've been unconscious for a few days." He explained, he watched carefully for signs of shock.

Steve nodded once before speaking, "So when can I go?"

"Woah, woah, woah! You're fine with that? Being unconscious for days? Nearly dying?" The billionaire demanded. Mr My-Life-is-Private-So-Nobody-Connect-with-Me was okay with being carted from hospital to the tower without his knowledge or input on planning?

"What did you expect?" Steve challenged while eyeing the genius suspiciously, "For me to break down in tears? Start shaking in shock? Look, Mr Stark, I understand that you don't know much about what I do but I've been unconscious for weeks before and much closer to death more than once previous to now." He forced himself to sit up slightly, "Yes, I'm good at my job but sometimes it's impossible to get out without a few scrapes and bruises."

"This was more than a bruise. Clint was verging of hysterical." Tony cried as though to reinforce his point.

"That's Clint. He's always been a primadonna. You get a paper cut and he'll already be calling 911." The large man sighed against the soft pillows behind his back, "He puts on a tough exterior but he's soft as a puppy on the inside."

Stark watched the assassin carefully. He didn't doubt that the man had lived through worse but now he'd met him, he didn't want Cap to go through anything ever again. At least, not if he could stop it. He had the ability to protect this man and he definitely would, even if the other man did his best to shake his efforts.

"Lie back down. I'll go and get your pain meds." Tony watched Cap yawn which caused a smile, "Besides, they said you'd be tired when you eventually woke up with your body trying to cope and all."

The assassin slid down and pulled the blanket up. Tony couldn't help grinning as he left to find where he'd put the man's painkillers.


	6. Chapter 6

"These are pretty strong so they-" The billionaire froze as he stepped in to the guest room and the emptiness of the bed leapt out to him. The blankets were strewn across the floor and the pyjamas were discarded while clothes from the open wardrobe were missing.

"Jarvis? Where in the tower is he?" He asked quickly. Cap was injured so the last thing he needed was to be wandering the tower freely. He could collapse at any moment.

The voice replied primly, "Mr Captain has already left the tower."

"What?! How did he get past me?" Gobsmacked, Stark began to race towards the elevator. How on earth had the assassin managed to sneak behind him in the 5 minutes he'd left the room? He hadn't even left this floor so the man must have passed through the same room as Tony was in to leave.

"At one point, he was less than 5 yards away from you." The AI supplied almost cockily.

"How did I not notice him?!" He demanded, skidding to a stop and smashing his hand into the down button on the elevator.

It took him to the ground and the genius shot out, his eyes scanning the surrounding area and people. He checked face after face around the tower convinced the man couldn't have travelled very far while injured. Eventually he had to give up and admit defeat. It was almost as though the tall man could just vanish into thin air.

He sloped back up to the elevator broodingly whilst knowing he'd have to ring Clint to keep him up to date with what had just happened. It really wasn't safe for the man out on the street while he was hurt and dozens of people had a price on his head. The spy would inevitably throw a trantrum over Tony losing his mentor and then Fury would call him in to have 'words' about responsibility. He sighed and wished Captain wasn't so stubborn or skilfully stealthy.

Did he feel as though someone had dropped his body from the 10th floor of a building? Yes. The aching had penetrated right into his bones and the wound itself pulled at the stitches with every step or mere movement. That's without mentioning the weariness that caused him to blink heavily every couple of seconds.

He needed a taxi to take him home so he could re-disinfect his wound where his sudden movements had ripped the healing area a little in the edge. He had all the first aid supplies he would need for this simple process but most importantly, home had bed which is exactly where he'd want to be.

Once in a cab he shot of a text to Stark,

 _Thanks for the hospitality. I'll be fine from here._

 _Don't fret and give yourself a heart attack;_

 _your public need you._

 _Cap_

He chuckled to himself as it sent before leaning his head back against the headrest and slightly drifting off as the vehicle carried him home.

Clint was mad, steam coming from his ears mad, but he hadn't tried to murder Tony yet so it was a vast improvement on what he had expected. The archer paced the floor of the bedroom as he ranted, face going a slightly more alarming shade of red every second.

"How could you lose him?!" The small man cried.

"I didn't lose him. He walked out!" Tony puffed his chest and began to defend his honor as it really wasn't completely his fault. If they should be blaming anyone then it should be Cap himself for being an idiot.

Clint threw his arms in the air exasperatedly, "He's a master assassin! Did you really think you could just leave him in a room alone? You know how stubborn he is!"

"I thought he was aware he still needed care!"

"You clearly don't know the first thing about him! Or assassins in general!" The blond man ran his fingers through his hair causing it to spike up. "Captain is stubborn and fatally independent while assassins are the sneakiest and most deceptive bastards you can ever meet!"

"Well somebody could have told me this previously! 2 days ago he was nearly dying so I didn't exactly expect him to be up to his old tricks," The billionaire defended himself, "Anyway, why don't you just go to his house and bring him back?"

Clint looked shocked and turned to face the other man, "His house? How should I know where he lives?"

Tony's eyebrows furrowed. He remained silent for a few seconds to allow for the Spy to rectify his statement but only silence filled the room.

"Aren't you supposed to be his best friend? He's your mentor?" Confused.

Clint dumped himself down on the end of the large bed with a sigh, "It's... complicated. He's not like me or Nat. We are protected by Shield so we are more or less safe to live wherever we want but Cap... He's an assassin and a good one too which means people want him dead. For anyone in the world to know where he lives is a danger to him. One torture session and someone could have his address and a bullet with his name on." Clint nibbled at the inside of his lip, "The first time I went to his home it took me months to find it and then I tried to go back a year later when I needed his help but he was gone. Some family lived there instead."

"Couldn't you track it down? You're supposed to be a master spy." Stark mocked lightly.

"Of course I could if I wanted. Easy enough but it's safer for him to remain hidden so I'm not risking his life simply to drag him back here just because you have a thing for him."

"I do not have a thing!" Tony cried but his face was heating up.

"Sure... sure because you show this kind of concern for everyone." Smirking, Clint leapt off the bed and marched towards the door. He had to figure out a way to check up on Steve, "Give him a few days and he'll be back to normal and you can continue your usually stalking."

The spy slipped out the door and was out the building in mere minutes. Tony peered around the room and sighed. He really wished Cap had at least stayed for a little while.


End file.
